Examinations
by ldee417
Summary: Life is full of tests. There’s nothing that says they can’t be fun.
1. Arithmancy

**Title**: Examinations

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: Well, I'm still working on a longer, angstier D/Hr fic, but my brain still likes to take breaks from that by writing some fluffiness now and again. (I promise I am capable of writing more than fluff, really.) So, keeping in mind that this is just a bit of stream-of-consciousness amusement without a great amount of deeper meaning, have fun! 

Hermione Granger looked guardedly at Draco Malfoy.  He had leaned forward just a bit in his chair and was looking at her with an expression that she could only call evil.  Well, and amused.

So, after all that had transpired in the last few weeks, this was it.  

It had really all started a week and a half ago, with the announcement of the next Arithmancy exam.  While the rest of the class was duly dismayed, Hermione reveled in the chance to again prove her worth with a top exam score.  That is, until she noticed Draco Malfoy shooting her a sour look.  Her mood soured, and she scowled right back.  Naturally, this led him to corner her after class.

"You know, Granger, most _normal _people don't get all sparkly at the concept of a grueling exam," he jeered.  "What an _exciting _life you must lead."

"You know, Malfoy," she shot back, "most _normal_ people don't spend so much time worrying about someone else's study habits – unless, of course, they're jealous."

"Jealous of what?  Your compulsive need to turn to books since you can't maintain any meaningful human interaction?"

"Jealous of the fact that I've beaten you on every Arithmancy exam this year, perhaps."

He scowled.

"Only because there's more to my life than burying my nose in a book," he retorted.

"Yes," she said sarcastically, "I'm _sure_ that's the reason.  I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you have the intellect of… well, a ferret comes to mind," she finished with a scornful twist of her lips.

His eyes narrowed, but his tone of voice was dismissive as he responded, "I could easily score higher than you if I wanted."

"I'd like to see you try," she scoffed.

"Is that a bet?"

She pursed her lips.  "What are we betting with?"

"It's your bet – you decide," he said, sounding a bit livelier.  His posture had even improved.  This interested him somehow.

"Not money," she said thoughtfully.  "We both know that that's not quite enough of an incentive for someone… such as yourself."  Her last words were saturated with contempt.

"Not to mention it's boring," he added before leaning forward a bit.  "Let's see you use your imagination."

Hermione was at somewhat of a loss.  She was certain that what was interesting to her was something entirely different to what was interesting to Draco Malfoy.  "I – I don't know," she stuttered.  "Candy?"

"_Candy_?" he replied incredulously.  "You wouldn't know an interesting bet if it walked up and bit you in the arse, Granger!"

She gave him a miffed glare.  "Fine. You come up with something better."

Which led her to the three words that she was very much not expecting:

"Loser. Kisses. Winner."

"What?" Hermione gasped, shocked.

"You heard me."

"No way.  If that's the bet, then we _both _lose."

"You wouldn't," he smirked conceitedly.

Hermione glared at him derisively in response, then went on, "Why would you want to make that bet anyway?  Certainly you don't _want _to kiss me."

He didn't answer to that.

Instead, he said, "It's a great motivator, is it not?"

"But I still have to… if I beat you…"

He rolled his eyes.  "Or you could just sit there and endure it and delight in my misery.  And, of course, consider yourself lucky that you ever got such an opportunity."

"I'm trying to have a discussion with you, not your over-inflated ego," she snapped.

"Good one, Granger," he said sarcastically.  

They both lapsed into a brief silence.

"So," he started up again, "I notice you haven't said no."

"Neither have you."

"Then we have a deal?" he questioned, holding out a hand.

"It's a bet," she responded, shaking it and wondering if she had gone crazy.

Naturally, there was no way she was going to lose.  Although her friends and classmates might have thought that there was no way that she could study any more, she did.  Whenever she felt like taking any sort of break, she found something to egg her on – his mocking glance in the hallways, the night he saw her pouring over her text in the library and had the audacity to laugh, his certainty despite the fact that she had yet to see him crack a book.  

The exam came and went.  Unfortunately, it did happen to be on a chapter that Hermione found particularly complicated… but she wouldn't allow herself to worry.  She had studied, and she knew the material, and she was confident… if only she could remember the pneumonic device she'd invented to help her solve problems like number 15…

After the exam papers were returned, she walked smugly to the library.  She had only lost two points on the entire test, and it _had_ been a difficult test – there was no _way_ that Malfoy had managed any better.

It didn't take him long to find her.  He looked at her self-satisfied face and raised his eyebrows.  "I win," he said simply.

She held up her test paper. "Not likely – I only had two points marked off."

He nodded and dropped his on the table before her.  

He had only lost one point.

One lousy point.

He dropped into the chair beside her with a superior look splashed across his face.  

The bastard.  She had lost… and she wasn't one to prolong her own suffering.

So this was it.

She bravely tilted over in her chair.  He closed his eyes; hers drifted shut, and then – 

"I can't do it," she sputtered, halting her forward progress and even listing back a bit.

His eyes snapped back open as a spurned, irritated expression covered his features.  "You have to," he snapped arrogantly.

"I don't _have _to do anything," she pointed out.

"You've made your bed, Granger," he whispered saucily, "now lie in it."

Hermione briefly wondered whether she would have believed anyone who knew ahead of time that she would one day soon be hovering intimately near Draco Malfoy and listening to him murmur about lying in beds.

No, she would not have.

"It's just a ridiculous bet, Malfoy."

"Well, if you're too afraid to go through with it –"

"I am not _afraid_," she snapped.  Her expression suddenly became much more determined.  Seeing that he'd struck the proper nerve, Draco drew his lips into his mouth for moisture, then quickly released them.  Hermione watched this motion, startled, her countenance softening as she was rather taken aback by how sensual she found it to be.  She began leaning forward without express permission from her brain to do so.  Her reaction made him begin to grin, start to speak.

Whatever it was, she didn't want to hear it.

So she slanted over and pressed a gentle kiss onto his mouth before he could let any words escape.

With her eyes closed, she didn't see his eyebrows arch in surprise, but she was still perfectly able to hear that he tried to mask a slight gasp when she pulled back – although that was only after a minute or two.

She hadn't planned on that part, really.

He cleared his throat.

"I told you I could beat you," he said, the miniscule catch in his voice and his slightly widened eyes betraying his arrogant words.

"Not on the Potions exam next week," she said with a wink.

**Author's Note part deux**: Not a one-shot. More forthcoming.


	2. Potions

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: On to Potions. Thank you so much for all your comments – knowing that there's people out there reading this, and moreover _enjoing it _is so very inspiring! You keep me writing! :)

Naturally, Hermione studied for the Potions exam as if she were mad.  Every moment she spent focusing on the class was one less that she spent wallowing in shame over her brazen behavior in the library.  Surely he realized that she had _not _meant to reinstate their silly bet.

Certainly such an understanding was what he was trying to convey when he rapidly recovered his facilities, winked, said "Time will tell" in that _cheeky _tone, and fairly swaggered away from the table.

Right.

The exam was on a sleeping draught, a very complicated timed sleeping draught.  This meant several things to Hermione:

1. It _was _going to be difficult.

2. Of course, that didn't mean that she couldn't earn perfect marks.

3. But that particular accomplishment would be a lot more difficult for her with Snape's hand wielding the quill that would dispense the marks.

4. And a lot easier for Draco.

And, she reasoned, add number five: obviously, there was no more bet, so number four was a moot point.

Fellow Gryffindors began wondering whether there was some sort of spell creating the magnetic connection between Hermione's eyes and her Potions texts – perhaps the same one making her so distant and anxious half of the time.

Draco, of course, seemed to act no different.  

Unless you counted the looks he kept tossing at her sneakily (or not so sneakily) in the library and in the class itself.  There was the Arrogant Smirk of Look-at-Granger-Trying-So-Very-Hard, the Feigned Glare of I-Wasn't-Really-Looking-at-You, the Derisive Frown of Why-Should-I-Be-Forced-To-Share-This-Giant-Building-With-The-Likes-Of-You… Those weren't really different, but there was still the most dangerous look of all:

The one where his eyes got all dark, and then sparked just a bit, and at least one of the corners of his lips turned up, and he looked thoughtful, and evil, and worst of all, a bit eager. Oh yes, that one was sneaky.

That was the one that made the words blur a bit on the page while she felt her face turn into an electric beacon.

Strike the "eager" part… she would just call it evil all around.

The exam had two portions: written and exercise.  She could ace the first with no problem.  Snape could not find fault in her written responses.  They weren't verbatim, but they were precise.

The latter was difficult.  The latter was timed to the second.  If her draught took effect one minute too early, or too late, or if her poor test rat was unconscious for more than twenty minutes…

As it so happened, her potion took effect exactly twenty-three seconds too early and held on for exactly seventeen seconds too long.  Snape nearly raised his eyebrows with glee at the extra forty seconds.  All the better to downgrade her with.

The next morning, Hermione woke with a nagging, fluttering ache in the pit of her stomach.  She attempted to reassure herself by rationalizing: Snape couldn't possibly have graded the entire class's examinations overnight.

But he had.

Hermione had been right about one thing; she had received perfect marks on the written segment of the test.  In practice, the forty seconds had cost her, although not dearly.

She suddenly understood sports enthusiasts.  There were always margins of error, but the excitement lay in seeing whether they would be overcome or whether they would simply be too much.

Needless to say, the knot in her stomach only grew tighter.  She barely ate dinner.  How was she supposed to anyway, with him – appraising her like that from across the room? 

She pondered following Harry and Ron to the Common Room after the exam to head off the situation altogether.

However, she wasn't a lion for nothing – she was proud, brave, and (like all cats) curious.

But she wasn't going to make it easy.  Another thing about cats is that they play all the games by their own rules.

She sat on the cold floor outside the Potions classroom, pulled out a book, and waited.  It took him a bit longer than the last time, but he found her within the half hour.  She recognized his footsteps before she could see him, and took one last deep, apprehensive breath.  

She didn't look at him until he nudged her foot with the toe of his boot.  

"Granger," he said by way of greeting, taking a seat beside her.

"Malfoy," she said steadily.  Suddenly, she became extremely aware of every discomfort in her body, and also of all the parts  therein that weren't.

"So, do you often study on the floor in a cold dungeon hallway?"

"Not very often."

"The library seems much more logical."

"Ah, but variety is the spice of life."

"Indeed.  Unfortunately, there's no more of it for you.  I win."

"How can you be so sure?  I didn't miss a single question on the written segment."

"Nor did I."

"I can't just take your word for that."

"I didn't think you would," he said, producing a folded exam paper.  She looked over it briefly and frowned.  In tall, slanted, cramped handwriting, he had indeed answered every question correctly.  She didn't dare reverse the page to see the second mark.

"My potion wore off seven seconds early," he continued.  "How about yours?"

Despite her earlier reticence, she then flipped the paper over so quickly that she nearly ripped it.

"Seven seconds?" she breathed incredulously.

"You too?"

"What? Oh… no…" 

She couldn't lift her eyes, but she could certainly feel his prying stare.  How could she be expected to lie properly under such scrutiny?

"Well?" he questioned, his voice standing at the edge of irritation.

"Fortyseconds," she muttered.

"_Four _seconds? Well, er, well-done, then, and – "

"Forty."

"Oh… _ohhh_…" She closed her eyes briefly, fairly hearing the confidence reblooming in his tone.  "It's a shame, that."  

She risked a glance upwards.

That bloody look.

It couldn't really be classified as a smile, and it couldn't really be classified as happy – no, it leaned far closer to smug, overconfident, and… and… energized.  Not eager, not eager.

And now his self-satisfied gaze was holding her own.  She realized with a jolt that her heart was pounding fiercely.  It was very disconcerting, feeling like you were running a marathon while sitting firmly on the ground.

He cocked an eyebrow.  "Well, whenever you're ready, you know where to find me," he said flirtatiously.  Then he settled his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Bloody _bastard_.  

And dear _Merlin_, he had a striking, aristocratic face, when it was this close… and peaceful… and not shooting you hateful looks.

Hermione gulped and shifted her book to the floor.  At this noise, he twitched slightly.  

She rearranged herself into a kneeling position, facing him at a three-quarters angle.  Was he… was he… breathing heavily?  No, certainly not.  It was just the dizzy feeling… it was warping her perception.

She leaned forward very slowly, in ironic contrast to her rapid heart rate.  

Her cheek made contact with his before anything else in a soft brush of skin, and from there it was only a scant head tilt to give him a very soft kiss, fitting her lower lip between his own.

And another, with a bit more force.

And another, again with a bit more force, and also with a bit more head tilt, which allowed her to draw lightly on _his_ lower lip.

And he was kissing her back.  Again.

She broke contact, releasing him, but he surprised her by leaning away from the wall without a moment's hesitation to reinstate their connection.

She inhaled a bit sharply, leaning back into the heat of his mouth.  He kissed her with a bit more feeling, but it was still so simple, exploratory.  It was slow.  It was deliberate. 

It was sexy.

For whatever reason, this word jolted her brain back into focus.  She pulled back abruptly, and for a second or two, merely attempted to catch her breath, which was tangled with his – she hadn't pulled herself back more than a few inches.  He _was _breathing a bit heavily, actually.

Then, her flurry of motion started.  

It began with her turning her head away, continued when she rocked back onto her heels and retrieved her book, really gathered steam when she popped to her feet.

"Care of Magical Creatures.  Two weeks from yesterday.  I'm not going to lose to you three times in a row," she snapped, not really looking at him, yet still able to see the solemn, naked expression on his face.

Then she stalked away as haughtily as her shaky legs would allow.


	3. Care of Magical Creatures

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: Well, I must admit that this chapter did not turn out as I expected when I started writing it.  It seems that Draco and Hermione had other ideas – I swear that they wrote this chapter and not me!  Big thank yous to everyone who read and/or reviewed!  And now, on with the show…

Now, really, _this _was getting a bit redundant. 

Care of Magical Creatures was _her _class.  _Not his_.  Hagrid liked her, _not him_.  She took the class seriously, _not him_.

_She _got top marks on every test in every class, _not him_.

Not him, not him, not him.

At least, not until now.

She had spent the entire last week blushing whenever he was in the same room.  She had been too fluttery to eat properly.

Fluttery.  She was _fluttery_.  She had told everyone that she was afraid she had caught a flu.  Never mind that no one else was ill.  She refused to go to the Infirmary.  Miss classes? Hermione? No, that didn't happen.

Be fluttery enough to misidentify three plant-eating creatures as carnivorous? Hermione? 

Well, that might have happened.

"How?" she shouted. "_How?"_

"I answered the majority of the questions correctly," he replied smoothly.  "If you were looking for a more thorough answer, I paid attention in class, took notes on the things I needed to remember, and on the two nights before the exam, I –"

"I know how to _study," she snarled._

Then she grabbed his jaw a bit roughly and dragged his mouth down to hers.

It was safe to say that she was a bit frustrated.

Outlets.  Well, that explains it: this must be an outlet for her frustration.

He leaned into her hurriedly, bumping her back into the wall.  She was having none of this, and braced her hands against his chest, pushing him away.

"How did you do it?" she questioned angrily.  "Did you cheat?"

He looked sincerely affronted.  "I don't need to," he answered, his voice sounding a bit tense.

"Why, because you pay off the professors?"

His eyes narrowed, and he took a few steps to his left.  She noted that this move was calculated, as it placed his own figure strategically between hers and the door.

"What do you take me for?" he spat, his voice turning disdainful.  "Some git who's too dim to pass one of Hagrid's inane exams?"

"Take that back!" she cried, advancing.

"No," he replied. 

"Do it!"

"Make me."

Hermione wore a furious scowl.  "How very mature of you," she snapped.

"You couldn't anyway."

"Couldn't what?"

"Make me take it back." He shrugged.

She was standing just across from him.  "Yes, I could.  Take it back," she said in low tones.  "You _take it back" – she jabbed him in the chest with her finger by way of punctuation._

He tilted his head forward and narrowed his eyes.  "Make. Me."

A frozen moment passed.

She hadn't really met his eyes for one day less than two weeks now.  Not for more than a fleeting second, anyway.  They were… deeper than she remembered somehow.  Layered.  Currently, anger was at their top level, but it was swirling… with…

She was on him again, but again, only for a moment.  Then she shoved him back once more.

He let out some sort of frustrated noise.

"Stop making me do that!" she cried in irritation.

"I'm not making you do anything," he said, "so you can stop being so angry with me already."

Oh, now how had he done _that_?

He had delivered a sound blow to the cause of her rage and been right, all in one.

Normally, this would have fueled her anger, but instead, after one last brief flare, she felt the wind rapidly leave her sails.

They were in an empty classroom.  Defeated, she sank into a chair.

He took one nearby.

"Why do you study so much?" he asked her abruptly, all ire gone from his voice.

She glanced at him suspiciously.  "If this is a prelude to some joke about how –"

"It's not," he interrupted.  Then he waited.

She shrugged.  "Why does anyone do anything?  Because they like to, or because they have to.  I like to."

He looked at her curiously for a moment.  A bit of a flush rose over her cheeks as she reviewed her words, but he chose the literal line of conversation to pursue.

"Why, though?  How is spending night after night with your books so enjoyable?"

She couldn't fathom why her answers might be of interest to him.  Inspired by his sudden solemnity, she tells him the guarded truth.

"Well, some of us… that are here… feel the need to prove that we deserve to be so," she answers haltingly.

He almost looks a bit contrite.  

Contrite!  Draco Malfoy!  She didn't know it was possible!

He should be.

Not only had he maligned her for years, but now he'd also gotten her to admit an insecurity that he had already exploited.  

"I see," he responded.

"Oh, why did you make this stupid bet anyway?" she muttered, temper flaring suddenly again at her verbosity, his brevity.  If not for that fateful day, she would be in the library at this very moment, or in the Common Room, or not here.

"I didn't, you did," he argued, almost lightly.

"We both did," she clarified.

He nodded slowly, and the pair lapsed into silence.

Neither moved.

He spoke, breaking the silence with what was on her mind anyway: "So, Arithmancy?"

"The exams come around rather quickly, it seems," she said sagely.

"Don't we have any other classes together?" he teased.  "I've already proven that I can beat you in that one."

Teasing?  The playful kind?  This whole week was incomprehensible, from the fluttering to the losing to her admittance to this.  

"Not this time," she answered, finding herself turning quite coquettish.

"I've heard that before," he bantered back.  "Make it interesting."

"Double or nothing," she responded, surprising them both.

"That's…"

"Eight," they said in unison.

"Technically only six," Hermione pointed out.  "I'll go easy on you. Take it or leave it," she finished.

Draco gave her a mischievous look.  "Deal."

They shook on it.

She left without another word.


	4. Arithmancy

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: Happy Holidays, everyone! First off, I'd like to give a big, huge THANK YOU to _everyone_ who reviewed… what wonderful Christmas presents! Next, I'd like to reassure you that the muses have spoken to me regarding this collection of ramblings, and I believe that I have some direction for it – and it's not all entirely fluff, either (hurrah for substance!). Lastly, this chapter still _is_ rather fluffy. So, now that you're forewarned, off we go:

Hermione knew that she looked quite frazzled.  She knew that she had a dark ring framing each eye.  She knew that she held in her hand a perfect Arithmancy exam.  Hers.

There was literally no way he could have done better.  

Now she'd see how he liked it.  _Losing, that is_, she thought hurriedly, flushing slightly.

She tried not to look all too self-satisfied.  She failed.  He saw this.

Draco approached her, and she could tell that he was reading her expression.

"Did well, then?" he questioned in an inscrutable voice, still a few steps away.

"Perfect score," she announced, brandishing her paper proudly.

"Okay," he said.  He continued forward, barely breaking pace.

She was used to her own hesitation in these sorts of situations, and barely had time to drop her prized exam paper before he closed in upon her.

He approached matters differently in other ways, as well.

He took her in his arms, for example.  

She huffed out a startled breath at being held so firmly in contact with him a mere second before he was able to press his mouth against her own in a very firm, ardent kiss.  

He pulled back just a bit.

"One," he whispered.

Her eyes, which had popped open while his remained shut, widened, then resealed as he moved back in.  Her hands, resting on his upper arms, clutched a bit as he kissed her again for rather a longer period of time and with a bit more thoroughness.

"Two."

Hermione felt rather helpless.  Or adrift.  Or unfocused.  She realized how cliché each word choice seemed as it flitted through her head, but didn't much mind.

Not when he was actually snogging her properly now.

Dear goodness, when had she started grasping onto him so?  

Their lips broke apart suddenly.  She was duly embarrassed to find herself nearly panting and struggled to find a deeper breath in her repertoire.

There was no time, as he murmured, "Three," in a decidedly lower tone and set himself upon her again.

Some time later – she reasoned that there's no way it could have been more than – oh, who knew, anyway?  Some time later, he released her mouth gently and managed to sigh "Six," after a winded breath.  

Pliable_.  _That was a better word.She felt pliable.  Her very skin felt pliable.

"You skipped four and five," she whispered back, keeping her eyes closed and her forehead on his.  

She felt his smirk more than saw it.  "In that case…" he began, but she interrupted his subsequent forward motion with her own words:

"Why did you make this bet?"

Unable to kiss her properly, he settled for pecking the corner of her lips.  "Four," he said, before continuing in a muted, thoughtful tone.  "I've heard it said that there are only two reasons that anyone does anything," he said quietly, leaning back just a bit.  

She dared to open her eyes.

In a way, she wished she hadn't.

His eyes could best be described as rather fiery.  In fact, they had the same effect on her as a fire – she was suffused with heat, and felt nervous that she might be standing too close.

"Oh," she replied in a tiny voice.

He actually laughed at that.  

He released her a bit and she slowly became that, yes, there _was_ still a room surrounding them.  A classroom.  A different one this time.  She saw a bit of it as he leaned slightly away, but still retained a grip on her elbows, over which he rubbed his thumbs lightly.  She found that this move left her hands in the same spot on his arms.

"So, tell me.  How did you manage a perfect score?" he said in an almost conversational tone.  "That exam was beastly!"

Hermione's lips quirked mirthfully and her eyes narrowed just a bit.  "Well, you see, I paid attention in class, and took notes on the important bits.  Then, on the nights leading up to the ex –"

"All right, all right, truce," he interrupted with a chuckle.  

Draco Malfoy had just laughed.  Twice.  Within a minute.  Non-derisively.  

Hermione Granger was shocked.

She pulled back more, and took a seat.  This was antithetical to her wishes, but her body was still operating without her authority and had made the decision on its own.  He dropped sideways into the next chair, facing her.  Somehow, she felt that this was no less intimate.

"Well, it certainly _is _a difficult topic," Hermione admitted.  She struggled to bring herself back to her real life.  "But I find it helps me to remember if I make up pneumonic devices to help me keep all the steps in order."

He nodded thoughtfully.  "You'll have to tell me some of those.  Truthfully, I didn't have any hope at beating you this time 'round."

She bit back a smile, but was moved to reveal its cause.

"Of course you didn't.  I haven't done bloody anything else in the past four days other than study for this exam."

He shook his head a bit and gave a mock-sigh.  "Granger, what did I tell you about carrying on with books versus carrying on with people?"

"But one leads to the other, you see," she said good-naturedly, but still going a bit red.

"One would think that being lavished with attention by the best-looking boy in the school might actually make you spend less time with those blasted books.  One stands corrected."

"One is certainly conceited."

"What?  You don't think I'm good-looking?" he asked her archly.

Well, how was she to answer that?

She did, actually.  But she was a horrid liar, especially under the pressure of embarrassment.  She was also dreadfully opposed to inflating egos that certainly need not grow any larger.

So she said nothing for a minute.

"I thought so," he said with a smug smile.

"Prat!" she half-seriously shot forth without warning.

She made a mental note that she might not have any more control over her voice than her body.

"Bookworm," he answered a bit more mildly.

She started to feel an honest irritation creeping over her, but he leaned forward out of his chair and bestowed one more exhilarating kiss upon her before sinking back into his seat, smirking.

"Five," he said.

Hermione sighed.  He had her all out of sorts, there was no doubt about that.  So, she asked what was on her mind.

"So, what's up next on the agenda?  Potions again?"

Certainly, the time to be uncomfortable about being forward had passed.  She even felt a bit of a… dare she say it… affable connection at the moment.

"You mean to tell me that you don't know when the next test is?"

She shrugged.  "Not offhand."

Now he appeared a bit ill at ease.

"We don't have another exam for over three weeks."

What?

Hermione and Draco's eyes met.  They looked at each other uneasily.


	5. Potions

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: Again, thank you, thank you, _thank you_ to everyone who has read and/or reviewed my little fic. I'm going to run out of ways to tell you all how awesome and inspirational you are soon! Well, this was a rather quick update, but I am rather fond of this chapter and was eager to post it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it:

Days Zero through Four weren't really so bad.

Day Four and a Half was a different story.   

It was around that time that Hermione noticed herself getting a bit irritable.

So, what now?  She was supposed to admit that she wanted to kiss him for reasons entirely unconnected to foolish bets and academic prowess?  Not bloody likely.

Not bloody _true_.  Lousy prat.  Lousy, appalling, rude, awful _prat_.

Perhaps it could even be considered more than "a bit irritable."

Hermione decided that this was the case when she nearly bit Ginny's head off for interrupting her studies to suggest a game of chess.

In trying to discern a cause for her disquiet, Hermione could only find one conclusion: that her recent lesson in counting was slipping away from the present and into the realm of "memory," thus leaving her in a sort of uncertain state.

Well, or it could be this horrific Potions essay.  It was simply giving her one headache after another.

She worked on the assignment in fits and starts, all while cursing Snape for daring to assume that she had enough concentration for such an undertaking.

On Day Five, she was cross with everything and everyone, and was moved to curse at her quill in a decidedly un-Hermione-like fashion when it left blotches on her Potions parchment.

_Get it together_, she thought wretchedly.  _You don't see him suffering_.

Indeed, Draco was going about life as usual and barely looked at her in the meantime.

This wasn't "sort of" an uncertain state.  This was a downright ambiguous situation.  It was an undefined circumstance.  It was positively unclear.  

Hermione forced herself to stop messing about with her thesaurus and refocus on her essay.

She managed to bury herself in academia for the next few days.  

How did she do it?  Well, she did have years upon years of practice.   She hadn't known at the time that she was practicing _for _something, and frankly, she would have thought this too silly or too unlikely an instance to actually _practice _for – but now that it had arrived, she was grateful that she had.

She finished her essay, and it was returned not too many days later.  Despite her rumblings, she managed perfect marks.

"Impeccable essay, Miss Granger," Snape said brusquely as he dropped her parchment on her desk.  He made it sound like an insult.

Impeccable.  Faultless.  Perfect.  The best.

Something dawned on her.  She darted her eyes toward Draco.  He was examining his own essay, and tossed a brief, hard, curious glance at her as well.  Then, as if on cue, both snapped their eyes back to their own compositions.

Her stomach began to prickle, just a bit.  

But things were still… indefinite.

After class, Hermione gathered her belongings and left the room with Harry and Ron.  They both eagerly inquired after her essay grade.

"You've worked on that essay as though your life depended on it," Harry teased. "Now let us know if all that effort was worth it."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "you'd better show us that you used the time that you gained by skipping the Gryffindor Quidditch scrimmage!"

Hermione laughed; despite her recent bad temper, their jibes remained kind-hearted.  "As a matter of fact –"

"Got another perfect score, have you, Granger?" Draco sneered, appearing behind them as if from nowhere.  "What a good little bookworm you've been."

Harry and Ron instantly bristled.

"Don't pay him any mind," Hermione said in her best Ron-and/or-Harry-soothing voice.  "He just wishes he'd gotten top marks as well."

She and Draco exchanged a severe look, and she led her two riled friends away.

So, what now?  Was he asking what she thought he might have been asking?  If that was the case, he'd gotten his answer.  So now she was supposed to go wait somewhere and see if he would appear?

No, that was giving him too much power.  It was admitting her desires.  It was making herself vulnerable.

But… it could mean…

It didn't matter.  She wasn't about to subject herself to that kind of possible misery.  She would only take medicine that she knew was necessary.

That night, she went to the library.  That was normal enough.

Draco was there ahead of her.

That wasn't.

He was bent over his work – a book, a scroll, a quill.  He didn't look up as she rounded the corner.  This left her with little choice.

After a brief startled stare, Hermione ignored him and sat at a different table.

The next table.

She sat on the opposite side; they would have been facing each other had they been sitting together.  Instead, she sat at the opposite end of her chosen table, as far away from him as she could get.

She still had him in her sights, however, and shot him little looks.

She shot him little looks as she took out her books and papers.  She shot him little looks as she opened and arranged them.  She almost glanced at him as she found the correct pages.  She shot him little looks as she readied her quill.

"If you have something to say, I suggest you say it," he said irritably.  "I _am _trying to study, after all."

She snorted and concentrated with steely determination on her books.

Bloody hell.  He _was _going to make her admit it.

Well, she wouldn't.

Without looking up, she heard him push his chair back, and knew that he was leaving.

Blast.  Double blast.  She should have –

But instead, the suddenly surprising Draco Malfoy dropped into the chair beside her.

Then, without so much as a fleeting look in her direction, he turned back to his studies as though he were still sitting in his prior seat.

She cut him a glance out of the corner of her eye, and saw that he was entirely focused on his text.  He may as well have been completely alone, just as she had found him.

Hermione sighed slightly and looked at her own textbook.  What she was doing couldn't rightly be called reading.  

Then she realized that she should really be taking notes if her performance was to look authentic.

She wrote the date at the top of the paper.  She wrote "Arithmancy" and added the chapter number and title.  She underlined these severely.  She frowned and underscored the words a second time for emphasis.

She paused.

He might actually be able to see if she wrote something inane ("I am in the library" perhaps?), so she turned her eyes back to the book.

She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.  No changes.

A bit farther down the page, she saw the first subject heading of the chapter and jotted it down, relieved to be able to keep up appearances.

She stared unseeingly at her book for a moment longer.

This was utterly infuriating.  Her aggravated emotions resurfaced, and she ranted internally that she couldn't be expected to get anything done like this, and why was he _there_, and why didn't she just get up and leave…

She lifted her head to tell him off, and as she turned, he caught her mouth against his own in a single, prolonged, very angry kiss.

Startled, Hermione reflexively raised her hand not gripping the quill to the side of his neck, her thumb splayed over his cheek.  It was not a delicate grasp, but it did do something by way of sealing their transitory connection.

She grew heated.  Her breath quickened.

But then Draco broke off the kiss as abruptly as he had started it, and gathered his few possessions with speed.  He stood.

"You win," he said tensely.

"I win," she whispered.

He left without another word and with a scowl on his face.

Hermione bit her lip and turned her bewildered gaze to the tabletop and her book resting uselessly across it.

The book contained much information about Arithmancy, but none about confused gropings and what they might mean, or why persons that she formerly thought might actually be human were suddenly vile again, so what use was it to her just now?


	6. Care of Magical Creatures

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: I don't even know what to say anymore – the response to this little series has completely overwhelmed me.  Some of you went back to review every chapter!  I'm in shock.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  Also, someone asked how I came up with this idea: the first chapter was written as a one-shot in response to a question posed over at FAP.  People asked for more, and I wrote another installment.  Then people asked for more again, and I wrote another installment.  And so on.  Now, I basically have this plotted out until the end, but am trying to stick with the original form.  So, on with the plot!  

_Well, _this_ is certainly better than being completely ignored_, Hermione thought sarcastically.

She was standing outside of Hagrid's hut, trying not to list too obviously away from the largish reptilian… bird… thing… in his arms – the thing that was currently chewing through the sleeve of his shirt.

It appeared that Hagrid had not grown out of his love of dragons.  As he was forbidden to own one, he seemed determined to teach his students about all things similar.

Draco stood on the other side of the anxious group of students, looking none too relaxed himself. 

Rather than disregarding her entirely, he seemed to have chosen to glare at her throughout the entire class.

That wasn't really true.

It wasn't a glare.  It was more of a cool, detached, extended glance.  He used it infrequently enough that he didn't look like some sort of incensed madman, but frequently enough that others took notice.

Ron leaned over and whispered, "Hermione, have you had a run-in with Malfoy that we don't know about?"

Harry looked over upon hearing this, evidently curious.

She wondered what would happen if she told them the truth.

_"Why, yes, Ron. Actually, it's been several. We've been having secret snog sessions every week or so for at least a month now.  Draco's gone and got angry about it, though_."

She imagined every eye swiveling towards her, every mouth dropping open, aghast.

It was almost enough to make her laugh.  The whole thing was laughable, really.  

Hermione decided to tell Harry and Ron the truth anyway.

"I have no idea what his problem is," she hissed back, shooting Draco a look of her own.

"'ere you go, Harry," Hagrid said cheerfully, interrupting the trio's tête-à-tête.  

"Wha – oh!" Harry exclaimed as he began to extend his arms, but retracted them quickly as the creature snapped menacingly at his hands.  "What are you doing?" he asked frantically, clearly also trying to sound as calm and pleasant as he could.

"We're jus' passin' Gladys here aroun', so yeh can take a look at 'er feet," Hagrid explained.  "As I was sayin' –"

"Hagrid," Hermione interrupted, wide-eyed.  "Don't you think that you'd best just _show us _her feet? She… she probably… wouldn't like being handled by so many strangers," she improvised.  "It makes animals uncomfortable."

She heard several relieved sighs around her.  

Draco, however, gave her the icy look again.  She glared back.

"Quite righ', Hermione, quite righ'," Hagrid said agreeably.  "Why don't you three gather roun', an' take a look…"  He extended the creature's foot to show off its retractable talons.  Gladys nipped at Hagrid's hand while Harry, Ron, and Hermione shuffled almost imperceptibly forward, wearing matching looks of horror.

The students managed to escape class that day relatively unscathed.

_At least by Gladys_, Hermione thought bitterly, trying to soothe her ruffled pride.

This proved difficult, as Draco nearly bowled her over on the way back to the castle.  

"Sorry," he mumbled distractedly, before realizing who he had bumped so hastily into.  

She'd thought at first that he had done it on purpose, and was surprised to find out that he really hadn't seen her ahead of him.  He had been walking fast, alone, with purpose; his startled look was genuine.  It appeared that he had a destination in mind and had not expected interruptions.

But then recognition slid over his face, and he glanced behind her at Harry and Ron.

The change in his behavior was evident.

"Watch where you're going," he growled, his face twisting into an unpleasant expression.

Yet he didn't move his hand from her arm, where it had instinctively landed to right her.

It was a split-second's pause.  She knew that Harry and Ron would never see it, would never notice it for what it was.  

But then, they did tend to overlook things.

And anyway, it wasn't like she knew what it was either.  She did know, however, that it was noteworthy.

Then he turned abruptly, and as he hurried away, she called out in frustration, "But _you _ran into _me_!"

"Then watch where you're _standing_," Draco returned without breaking pace.  He didn't turn, didn't pause; he tossed the words out over his shoulder, sounding more bothered than anything.

Hermione pursed her lips and glowered stolidly at his retreating form.  He walked very confidently.

"Never mind him, Hermione," Ron said huffily.  "Great arrogant bastard.  Say – are you all right?"

Plastering her face with false liveliness, she glanced at her friends.

"Fine, Ron, perfectly fine of course."

She berated herself internally for the remainder of the walk back to the castle.  

By the time she reached the doors, she had determined that she was a right idiot for letting Malfoy bother her for what was obviously some sort of malicious amusement.  Furthermore, she had resolved to not give the matter another moment's thought.

Right.

That lasted until dinner.

That was the next time they were anywhere near each other.

Hermione, stuck sitting in such a way that she was facing the Slytherin table, braced herself for another onslaught of disdainful glares.  

She only got one more.  After that, things changed a bit.

The next time she was unable to stop her gaze from resting on Draco, he was looking at her in quite an odd fashion indeed.  

She remembered that close up, his eyes were striated.  She must be seeing a different layer now.

She tried to tack adjectives to it… Judicious.  Cautious.  Curious.

Oh, blast.

She was going to have to get to the bottom of this after all.

Well, if there was one thing that irritated her, it was not knowing something.  She was a fool to think that she could go without pursuing some bit of knowledge that so greatly affected her own being.

This would just be a bit harder than going to the library and taking out a book, was all.  

Draco didn't look at her for the rest of the meal, which left her time to gather her confidence.  

Hermione finished her dinner in relative silence and with as much speed as she could manage without appearing a glutton.  After setting her fork down with a sharp _clank_, she practically leapt to her feet, hoisting her bag to her shoulder.  

"I'm going to go study in my room," she announced, trying to make it sound as normal as she could.

"But you don't have an exam coming up – you only use your private room to study for exams," Harry pointed out.  "Why don't you just use the library?"

Ah, the critical point.  _Because just like every other time I've used that dreadful excuse, I don't want anyone looking for me_.

"Because it's too loud," she said, with little forethought.  She tried not to wince at her own feeble excuse, but couldn't quite keep her face from twitching slightly.

"Loud?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Er, yes.  Madame Pince really needs to assert her authority every now and again," Hermione lied in her most argumentative tone.

"Why don't you just study in our Common Room as usual then?" Ron asked pointedly. 

Harry looked across the table in disbelief. "Talk about loud, Ron," he scolded.

"Thanks, Harry – I'll stop by before I turn in for the night," Hermione promised, before leaving the Great Hall with haste.

For a brief second, she thought that she might rather be examining Gladys's feet than doing what she was about to do.

But nobody ever said that confronting an irritable Draco Malfoy was something to be comfortable about.

_Then again, perhaps he shouldn't be too comfortable either_, she reasoned.  He was about to meet with a ruthlessly determined Hermione Granger.

She walked on decisively.


	7. Arithmancy

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: Well, I know it's getting redundant, but thank you once again! I am still so glad that you're all enjoying this.  Hope you enjoy this part too!

Hermione understood that arriving at a location before someone else was a curious way of chasing said person.  However, she couldn't think of any other way to make her approach, so she settled down on the floor in the basement corridor again.  

She opened a book against her lap and studied as best she could between her frenzied thoughts.  She had no idea how long she'd have to wait.

Hopefully not too long.  The frenzied thoughts left little space for anything else.

It didn't turn out to be very long, actually.

She saw him walk across the crossbar of the T intersection formed by her hallway and his, and she saw him see her.  It wasn't much, a mere shift in the angle of his head and his gaze.

He continued past the end of her corridor.

He didn't even slow down.

Hermione hadn't dared think that he might actually ignore her.

She sighed despondently, shutting her book and her eyes, the latter briefly.  She moved to open her bag, which was resting beside her; apparently there was no use sitting down here in the cold.

"Going somewhere?" a voice asked from her opposite side.

She started and twisted around hastily.

"How did you do that?" she exclaimed in a voice more angry than she had intended.

Draco dropped to the floor beside her, although he maintained a perceptible distance.

"Well, the Slytherin dorms are just round the corner," he explained, "and Snape's office is near here as well.  I know these hallways quite well, actually."

"Ah," she acknowledged, finding nothing better to say.

"Back to your helpful studying spot, I see," he commented, after a slight pause.

"Yes, well, the library was too loud tonight," she mumbled.

"Too loud?" he asked incredulously.

_If only they knew_, Hermione thought briefly.  For the second time that day, she felt like she should laugh aloud when she was truthfully in no mood to do so.

"Yes," Hermione said shortly, feeling more and more of her irritation seep into her voice by the second.  She wasn't here for small talk, after all.  His glib-as-usual attitude had her becoming increasingly more nettled.

So she asked.

"Why are you so cross all of a sudden?"

There.  It was out.

"You're the one who seems cross at the moment, not me."

Oh. _Oh_.

The _prat_.

"Fine," she snapped, and threw her book back into her bag to further punctuate her sharp speech.  She moved to stand.

"Wait," Draco said quietly.

It was a subtle request, but he might have yelled it for how hard it hit her.

Had he just asked her to wait?  

Hermione turned to face him, trying to suppress her expression of hope.  

Had _he _just asked her to _wait_?

"I'm waiting," she said in a low voice.

He wasn't looking at her.  Instead, his hands had suddenly grabbed all of his attention.

"I just – I just don't like changing the rules in the middle of a game," he said haltingly.  "Sometimes it just makes it feel like a different game altogether."

Hermione couldn't help but let loose an bewildered chuckle at this confession.

"You say that as if it weren't an entirely different game from the start."

"Well, it wasn't really."

"What?  Do tell me, how was it _not _a different game?  I really fail to see the connection," she argued, feeling even more as though everything was edging backwards beyond the reach of her comprehension.  

"Well, it did start out as another way to torment you, didn't it?"

Hermione looked at him skeptically. "That's all this was – a way to get a rise out of each other?"

"Granger," he said in a changed tone that worried her in some odd, delicious way, "was that a dirty pun?"

"No! _No_," she gasped, feeling her face flush.  "_No_," she repeated vehemently, dropping his gaze.

He was still looking at her, though.

And dropping something into her lap.

Hermione straightened the paper and bit back a grin.  

It was the most recent set of Arithmancy problems.

"I missed four questions – four!" he revealed.  "Horrid concept, can't quite get my head around it.  So…"

"So?" she said mischievously.

"So, how'd you fair?"

"Only two and a half," she disclosed, cutting him a glance out of the corner of her eye.

"Where's your proof?"

"In my room."

"I'm afraid I can't accept your word, and therefore, I win."

Hermione began to chuckle.  "Talk about changing the rules!"

"Well, as we've established that rule-changing is legal, I _will_ be taking advantage of it."

She was laughing in earnest now, for reasons she didn't entirely understand.  It wasn't really all that funny.

It couldn't possibly be that she was that happy.

The rapidly turning tables caused her to tilt her head to the side a bit, to see just what he was doing.  This, in turn, enabled her to fully appreciate his performance as he painted his features with the most innocent expression she had ever seen him wear.

She mentally filed it under "The Evil Looks of Draco Malfoy."

"Well?" he prompted.

"Bloody _bastard_," she shot back mirthfully.

He barely had time to retort, "Language, Miss Granger," before she had slid her hands around his neck and stolen his ability to speak at all by covering his mouth with her own.

They both went into the kiss smiling.

Hermione, however, had lunged over and was stuck in a rather uncomfortable position.  She winced back a bit as she attempted to rearrange herself, and Draco managed to maneuver her so that she was sitting with her legs towards the wall, beside him, facing him, nearly in his lap.

He had grabbed her and angled her to his advantage.

His hands on her hips had made her burn.

Then again, his arms around her and the way he was now tilting her back slightly weren't so bad either.

However, something else was creeping into her consciousness. 

She could hear her heart beating.  She could feel his.  That could only mean that the rhythmic noise she heard behind her was –

– footsteps.

Footsteps that had stopped not far away.

Draco and Hermione broke apart, exchanging a stunned glance.  She guiltily dropped her eyes to his shoulder, while he dared to look over hers.  

_Who could it be_?  Hermione's mind went whirling.  It had to be a Slytherin – no one else would be in the dungeons at this time of night.  

_Unless they were planning on snogging a Slytherin_, her brain tossed in wickedly.

She bit her lip and felt compelled to return to panicking.

So… Who?  Crabbe?  Goyle?  Zambini?  _Parkinson_?  Oh, how Draco could twist this.  Couldn't he?  Perhaps not.  Clearly he was a willing participant, _clearly_… wasn't he?

She became aware that in the midst of being taken aback, Draco was also fighting back a smirk.

That couldn't be good.

Draco loosened his grip just a bit without releasing her entirely.

Hermione risked turning her head to look over her shoulder.

She saw black shoes and black robes.

Her head tipped up.

It was a Slytherin, all right, if you wanted to call him that.  It was not one that she had expected.

Severus Snape looked down at his students with a look of vague horror skirting across his features.


	8. Potions

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: I apologize that this update took a little bit longer than usual – real life got in the way. Thank you as always for your wonderful reviews and support! In addition, I apologize for uploading this chapter three times. Blame it on ff.net, which wouldn't let me know if I had uploaded properly or not. Well, we're starting to get into a bit more of a story here, but I am hoping not to get too heavy-handed (and to handle the cliché subjects in a way that is at least a bit fresh).  And if you were enjoying the fluff, never fear. I can't seem to get very far into this story without wanting to write something fluffy into it.  Here we go:

Hermione wondered if the hallway to the Potions had gotten longer, or if her footsteps were getting slower.

The latter, definitely.  

And the hallway just kept growing longer, because her footsteps just kept getting slower.

She thought fleetingly of scenes in films where the foreground rushed at the screen suddenly while the background receded. Those moments always gave her an uncomfortable sense of vertigo.

As it turned out, when it happened in reality, the effect was the same.  

The hallway stretched on interminably.  

This gave her an increasing amount of time to replay the events of that fateful night in her head.

She didn't think she'd ever seen Severus Snape with such a startled expression on his face.  Certainly, his initial reaction was completely unprecedented to her.

"I – " he sputtered.  "Never have – in – "

Speechless.  Speechless Snape.

Hermione had forgotten how utterly unorthodox the situation would seem to anyone other than the two involved.

And betraying her worst fears, Draco seemed suddenly struck with amusement.  She could tell that he had discovered some droll comment and was preparing to deliver it as his hands relaxed further on her side and hip.

Apparently, Snape could figure this out as well.

He snapped, "_Get up_!" with sudden vehemence.

Hermione pushed Draco off and scrambled to her feet.  He rose lazily beside her.

"I am extremely ashamed of your _blatant_… display," Snape started harshly, spitting out the words as though they were distasteful.  Hermione winced and stared at the wall beside the fuming professor, as Draco continued to regard him in a full on, curious manner.  "From two top seventh year students, no less.  Thirty points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin – _not a word, Mister Malfoy_!" he interjected as Draco suddenly grew indignant and moved again to speak.  "Each of you will retire to your rooms _immediately_, and if I am privy to any further conduct of this nature, I can assure you that your punishment will be far greater."

All three remained still for another second.

"Go," Snape barked, and Draco and Hermione both flinched. "_Now_!" 

Hermione jumped, retrieved her bag, and scuttled away red-faced.

Now, she stood at the doorway.  

There was no avoiding it any longer.

She walked through.

Surprisingly, she wound up standing in the classroom without hearing laughter, without being bruised, without somehow ending up naked, without bouncing off some sort of protective shield, without any sort of fanfare or spectacle at all.

Ron waved at her and pointed to the seat beside his.

The whole thing was rather anti-climactic, really.

Hermione glanced briefly at Draco, who was watching her idly with a bored expression on his face, then occupied the proffered seat quickly.  She mumbled a greeting to Ron as Snape swept into the room.  At the first sign of his dark robes, Hermione glued her gaze to the tabletop.

It soon became apparent that she would have to raise her head to look at the list of ingredients that Snape had produced on the board.

Readying both quill and parchment, Hermione dared to look up.

Snape, giving directions, happened to be scanning Hermione's side of the classroom and her motion seemed to catch his eye.

"…After adding these leaves, stir – er, stir thirty times," he stuttered briefly, but noticeably, before glancing agitatedly in Draco's direction, "counterclockwise.  Yes, counterclockwise."  

Hermione risked a glance at Draco.  He was staring guilelessly at the professor, and she could see the slight twitch about his lips.

She felt a hint of exasperation mingle with her huge stock of mortification.

She tried to push away the even smaller tinge of mirth.

Ron elbowed her.  Glancing at him, she saw that his eyes were wide.  "What d'you reckon is wrong with Snape?"

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione hissed back.

"I've never seen him _stutter _like that!" Ron explained.

"He barely hesitated, Ron," Hermione whispered anxiously.  "Honestly.  He was just distracted by something.  Pay attention."

"Miss Granger," Snape interrupted loudly, "do you have something to share with the class?"

His dark eyes were fixed furiously on her.

Hermione felt her face go red.  She certainly did _not_.

"I – no sir.  Ron just hadn't heard which direction to stir."

"Mister Weasley, I repeated the instruction twice.  Next time, _kindly _pay attention the first few times and refrain from interrupting my class," Snape reproved acidly.  "The next time, I _will not _hesitate to deduct points from Gryffindor."

"But – " Ron started, causing Hermione to cringe in sheer disbelief.

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Shape bit out.

Then, with one last acerbic glare at the two classmates, he turned away.

Wonderful.

Hermione tried to send Ron silent, apologetic vibes for causing Snape to come down even harder on their house than he otherwise might.

It didn't seem to work, as Ron continued to sulk.

Snape went on with his lesson.  He concluded it a few minutes later with a last reminder and directive.

"This potion will figure heavily in your next exam, which is in approximately two weeks.  Today will be your first practice session, so find a partner and get to work."

He then sat decisively behind his desk and set to glaring at whichever students he chose to be most in need of demoralization.  These were usually the Gryffindors.

Today, it was especially Hermione.  She received a particular fierce look (complete with slitted eyes) usually reserved for those far more inept than herself.

However, at the mention of the pending exam, Hermione found herself turning from Snape and glancing as surreptitiously at Draco as she could.

Without changing the angle of his head, he had barely turned his eyes to her as well.

His expression didn't change.

But he winked.

Hermione snapped her eyes back forward, scolding herself and him in a frantic internal diatribe.  

Not in the classroom, not in public!  No signs, no signs of it _at all_.  What were they to do if someone were to _see _such a thing?  Was he quite insane?

Well, perhaps it wasn't so bad.  Perhaps everyone on this side of the class thought he was blinking and everyone on the other side would think he had been glaring.  Yes.

She was startled out of her turbulent internal dialogue by the sudden recognition that there was a figure in front of her.  It rushed rapidly into view as she inclined her head back to the front of the classroom.

She almost gasped in shock.

Harry Potter stood before her table giving her a inquisitive look.

No.

Blast Draco Malfoy.  Blast Severus Snape.  Blast exams.  Blast Harry and his dogged determination to make N.E.W.T.-level Potions and become an Auror. Blast – 

Harry began to speak.

"Let's get to work, Hermione," he said, still looking odd.  He turned to gather supplies, and she tried to keep her worry off her face.  

Had he seen it?  

Certainly he would have said something if he had seen it.  

She moved her cauldron to the center of the table and stared into it uneasily.


	9. Care of Magical Creatures

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: Well, with this chapter I break 10,000 words!  I'm amazed; I never expected this little story to go so far.  And, honestly, I have you all to thank for that.  So thank you for pushing me to write, and thank you for all your support.  Now, as for this chapter… it's not D/Hr heavy, but please bear with me.  The payoff is coming.  I have a plan.  This is all leading somewhere.  Let's see where it starts……

Harry and Hermione left the classroom together after brewing a vaguely successful potion.  Were it not for Hermione's state of distraction and her intelligence, the potion could have been far better… or far, far worse.

Ron hurried up alongside.

"So, Hermione," Harry said conversationally, and she turned to him pleasantly, eager for a course of conversation that might stop her fretting about Draco Malfoy for a few moments.

"Why was Malfoy winking at you in class today?"

Oh, hell and damnation.  

Hermione's stomach dropped so suddenly that she actually looked at the floor at her feet to see if it had fallen straight out of her body.

Ron sputtered, "_What_?" in quite a loud, undignified fashion.

"You probably missed it because Snape had just taken those points," Harry said, full of falsely cheerful reassurance.  "So?  Hermione?"

Both boys turned on her suddenly, and she felt the weight of their stares, which, when combined, easily could give Grawp a run for his money.

"I… uh… I don't know… I…" Hermione stuttered, again cursing her blatant inability to lie under pressure when it came to her personal life.  How _did _those Slytherins manage?  Sure, she could lead that dreadful Dolores Umbridge out into the forest to be carried off by centaurs, but could she convincingly spit out a believably haughty "I don't know!" at the moment?  

It was so bloody unfair.

And Harry seemed to be growing more irritated with each hesitant syllable.

"Just tell us the truth, Hermione," Harry said sharply.  "We're your friends.  That's all we ask, really."

Hermione sighed.

"Well, you see, Malfoy and I have made a bit of a bet about the exam, that's all.  Snape mentioned it, so Malfoy was obviously just trying to get a rise out of me because he seems to think he has some chance of winning."

Harry and Ron had stopped walking and were both looking at her agape.

"_What_?" Ron repeated incredulously.

"A bet?" Harry asked in amazement.  "What kind of bet?"

"Whoever wins is buying the other a bag of sweets on the next Hogsmeade weekend," Hermione said firmly, before she had a chance to hesitate.  

There, that hadn't been so bad.

But it wasn't enough.

"How on earth did this come about?" Harry firmly continued his questioning.

"Well…" Hermione began haltingly, "we were talking one day –"

"_Talking_?" Harry interrupted severely.  "Since when do you talk to that bigheaded prat?"

"Yeah!" Ron interjected, seemingly rendered monosyllabic.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Potty, but she can talk to whoever she likes," Draco's voice cut in heatedly.  "She's not your lapdog.  She doesn't have to answer to you."

Harry and Ron spun around, and Hermione's eyes flicked to Draco in shock.  Not one of the three had been aware that he had approached on them.

"Why don't you keep your ugly nose out of it, ferret," Harry spat in return.

"How dare you!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, finding her voice in earnest at last.

All three boys snapped their eyes toward the angry girl.

But she was only looking at one of them.

Her furious eyes were aimed straight at Draco.

He stared back, his eyes actually reflecting some measure of surprise beneath slightly raised brows.

"Why can't you just leave well enough alone?" she finally spoke again in a voice much lowered and quite angry.

Draco's expression hardened dangerously.

"Fine," he snarled, and stalked away, maintaining his arrogant gait.

"Well done, Hermione," Harry said appreciatively once Draco had disappeared around the corner.  "How do you always do that?  Can you teach me?"

"Yeah," Ron said admiringly.

Hermione turned back to her friends still wearing a ferocious expression.  She spoke as though she hadn't stopped earlier, and as though Harry's words had never crossed his lips.

"And _you_!  Why must you always stoop to his level?" she continued furiously.  "Honestly, why can't _you _just leave well enough alone every now and again?"

Harry and Ron had switched their expressions back to "open-mouthed astonishment."  Really, they looked like a couple of fish when they did that.

"Are you… are you defending _Malfoy_?" Harry finally managed.

"No!" she cried out in frustration, and tossed her hands up in a brief moment of utter helplessness.  She began to stalk back to Gryffindor tower, with Harry and Ron at her heels.

"Then what are you saying, Hermione?" Harry shot at her back.  "That we should all just get along?  I don't like that pompous arse, and I'm certainly not going to hold his hand and go skipping down the corridor."

"I'm hardly asking you to," Hermione answered through gritted teeth.

"Well, what are you asking, then?" Harry returned angrily, grabbing her arm and forcing her to face him.  "Why were you talking to him in the first place?"

"Yeah! Why?" Ron exclaimed, doubling his prior capacity for speech.

Hermione yanked her arm away and glared at her friends, feeling all of the irritation that she had felt in the past few weeks exploding out of every pore.

"It's called common human decency!" she shouted.  "Perhaps you should look it up."

"Define human!" Ron fired back, scowling furiously.

"Something more capable of understanding than either of you two are at the moment!" Hermione exclaimed, simultaneously knowing that she'd gone too far and not sure if she was concerned about that fact.

She sighed and deflated just a bit.

Red spots blossomed on Ron's face, and Harry tugged on his arm, muttering, "C'mon, Ron, let's go."  The two boys made a hasty retreat in the direction of the Great Hall.

Hermione closed her eyes and slumped against the near wall.

Well, that had all gone marvelously.  Really.  Couldn't be better.

She managed to regain feet and locate her private room with dragging steps.

Once inside, she made every effort to make it seem like she would spend the next hour studying.  She sat at her desk, opened her bag, and pulled out a diagram of Gladys that was just waiting to be properly labeled.  She raised her quill and held it above the pot of ink.

Her hand hovered for a moment before letting the quill fall.

This was ridiculous.

She had to do something.

Hermione left her room hastily and walked decisively through the hallways.  She didn't break pace at any point; doors swung out of her way without giving her pause.  She only stopped when she reached a table near the back of the library.

"Why did you do that?" she asked harshly… but quietly, of course.

Draco glanced up from his own diagram of Gladys with a look of pure anger.


	10. Arithmancy

**Title**: Examinations

(**Subtitle**: Loser. Kisses. Winner.)

**Author**: luckdragon

**Rating**: oh, PG again I suppose

**Summary**: Life is full of tests. There's nothing that says they can't be fun.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but I have invited them out to play.

**Author's Note**: First off, thank you for all of your reviews and support, as always and again! I've said before that you keep me writing, and it's so very true.  I apologize that this chapter might have taken a little more time than you've been accustomed to, but my real life is still crazy.  If it helps, this chapter ended up being a bit longer than the previous ones.  They just kept talking. :) Lastly, Care of Magical Creatures was briefly mentioned in the last chapter, as they were working on labeling diagrams of Gladys.  Have to stick to the established format, after all. ;)  So, I guess that means it's time for an Arithmancy chapter…

"Where are your keepers, Granger?" Draco began snidely.  "Hiding nearby in case you can't stand up to big, bad Malfoy on your own?"

Ah, yes. Perfect beginning for a productive conversation.

"Hardly," Hermione sniffed.  "Actually, I don't think they want to be anywhere near me after the telling off I gave them."

Draco seemed to squint at her slightly as his anger broke momentarily for perplexity.  It was short-lived.

His expression re-hardened as he spoke again.

"Well, if you're going to lecture me as well, let's just move it right along, shall we?"  He folded his hands primly over his work and stared at her with feigned attention.  "Between this and the Arithmancy problems, I'm bound to be here all night.  The sooner you leave, the better."

Hermione's anger surged, but she fought to keep it in some sort of check.  Honestly, it would do no good to get into a shouting match.

_I am not angry_, Hermione told herself internally with Zen-like calm.  She drew a deep breath, carefully choosing her next words.

"Stop being such an arsehole and let me speak!" she snapped.

_Well done, Hermione_, she thought to herself.  _That helped a great deal_.

"What is there to say?" he asked indignantly.

"You can start out by telling me why you stuck your nose into my business."

Draco's response to this was to stare at her with a fierce incredulity.

"Well?" she bit out impatiently.

"If you…" he began, before trailing off.  He shook his head slightly before continuing with force.  "Because… because they have no _right_!  No right whatsoever to act like a pair of self-righteous bastards when in reality –"

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop that sentence there."

"But you're better than that!" he burst out in what would have been a downright shout had they not been in the library.

Hermione reversed his disbelieving stare, adding her own particular brand of pure skepticism.

"I'm – what?"

Draco had dropped his eyes and was scowling furiously at the tabletop.

"You're cleverer than the both of them put together," he mumbled hurriedly after another moment's pause, "which means that you shouldn't have to explain yourself to a couple of oafs every time you want to draw breath."

Hermione stared the hard edges of Draco's expression and felt her anger shrink upon itself just a bit.

"They're my friends," she finally offered softly.  "They're just concerned about me."

"So why do you let them bully you around?" he asked, looking up at her again.  "Surely you can choose for yourself who you're allowed to talk to."

Draco was still angry.  Hermione could see it in his eyes, but she could read something else in them as well, a struggle of sorts.  She could see just how badly he wanted to shut himself off (and, mostly likely, up) and how much intense curiosity he felt about the subject at hand.

"Of course I can, which I would have told them had you given me the opportunity," she explained.  "And I would have told them that you've been perfectly… well, civil to me lately, and that they were being quite narrow-minded."

Hermione realized that she was still standing before him like some sort of great proud sentinel, and dared to relax her posture, pull out the chair opposite his, and take a seat.

Draco tilted his head back and looked at her carefully.

"And then?" he inquired.

"And they wouldn't have believed me, and they'd have insulted you all the more, and in all likelihood, there would have been a row."

"So it wouldn't have made any difference."

"Not at first, no," she admitted.  "But I could have gotten them to come around in time.  I'm afraid you've just set the effort back a bit, though."

"I don't see how you can associate with – with – them," Draco finished, clearly wanting to say more.

"Because they _are _my friends," Hermione reminded him truthfully.  "We care about each other."

The pair lapsed into silence, but neither made any move to leave the table.

And Hermione thought, as she was wont to do.  She had an inkling suspicion.  It wasn't much, really.  Just a nagging little tug along the sides of her contemplations.  A pesky little suggestion.  Surely mentioning it would be putting herself out on the edge of a very thin, precarious limb.

She did anyway, of course.

"It's okay if you're jealous," she whispered.  

"I'm not jealous," he snapped back heatedly.

"You don't have to be," she continued nearly inaudibly, "but it's all right if you are."

"I'm not," he repeated.

Well, the branch hadn't snapped exactly.  That was something.

The two fell wordless once again.  The silence stretched on for a few moments, giving no indication as to whether it was companionable or uncomfortable.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"D'you think that you could… maybe try to… not berate my friends at every opportunity you get?"

He looked at her again, this time with surprise.

"Dunno, Granger.  Can I expect the same from them?  From you?"

"What?"

"Your lot aren't any better," he pointed out.  "It's always 'Slytherin this' and 'Crabbe and Goyle' that.  You're not entirely blameless, you know."

"Next you'll be telling me it takes two to tango."

"It does," Draco said, looking confused.

"But Crabbe and Goyle are thick as bricks!"  Hermione argued, switching gears rapidly.  She was suddenly in no mood to be sidetracked.

"See what I mean?"

"There's no comparison," Hermione replied.

"There's not?  I called you clever – don't prove me wrong by being daft now.  Why can you poke fun at my friends but I can't do the same to yours?"

"But you'd say the same about those two great louts!"

"Oh, and you don't ever take piss out of Potter and Weasley?"

Hermione pulled up short.  She frowned studiously, trying to block out the sound of her own voice as it traveled back to her from her memories.

_"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have."_

_"Oh, _honestly, _don't you two read?"_

_"…don't be pathetic, Ron…"_

She closed her eyes and tilted her head, trying to suppress this unflattering blather.

When she reopened them, Draco was still looking at her, arching an eyebrow and looking every bit that he knew he was correct.

"All right, fair enough," she muttered, then became more animated as she continued on rather firmly.  "Let's just forget about the company we keep for a moment.  We really have other things to consider before we worry about whether we have to get chummy with… with… everyone else."

"Such as?" he asked, looking interested.

"Whether we can spend five minutes together in the same room peacefully," she replied.

"I think we've already proven that we can do that," he said, the twitch about his lips signaling the reemergence of his typical arrogant amusement.

"_Without _resorting entirely to our baser instincts," she added firmly.

Draco regarded her haughtily but not entirely unpleasantly.  "And what makes you think that I would want to spend time with you?"

"Just a hunch," Hermione answered, meeting his gaze.

The two stared at each other for a moment's worth of silent confrontation.

"All right, Miss Granger, assuming that I do," Draco said, "how do you propose that we accomplish such a task?"

"Simple – we'll study together for the Potions exam."

"You just want help because you know you don't stand a chance," he ribbed her.

"Hardly! Who's been winning?"

"Well, we'll just see if that keeps up."

"I'm sure it will."

"Oh, you think so?" Draco challenged.  He suddenly retrieved his diagram of Gladys and held it out to her, leaning forward and pointing to a spot.  "What are these?"

"Her talons," Hermione responded smugly.

"Wrong."

"Wrong? Wh –"

"Those, Miss Granger, are her feet," Draco cut her off, grinning proudly.

"Oh! You!" Hermione sputtered briefly before bracing her hands against the table, leaning over, and wiping the smile off his mouth by covering it with her own.  He responded with a relieved enthusiasm, even standing partway out of his seat to push against her more firmly.

_Public place, Hermione_, her conscience scolded mildly.

She broke off and leaned back.  He opened his eyes and she was amused that he had an almost dreamy look on his face.  That certainly wasn't a word she'd associated with his expression very often in the past.

"I should go," she murmured.

"Are you sure that you don't want to stay and help me with my Arithmancy?" he questioned lowly.  "I'm not sure that I understand it – I might be making quite a few errors."

Her stomach fluttered briefly.

"No, no," she said, leaning away from the table.  "I'd best go smooth things over with Harry and Ron."

"Right," he answered, sitting back down.

"I'll see you soon," Hermione promised, then left with a teeny smile playing about her lips.

**Author's Note _part deux_**: I do also apologize for all the cliffies lately – but look, this chapter wasn't one!


End file.
